Let Me Fall
by Eady of Old
Summary: Bates takes care of Anna when she and half the household come down with the flu.


**Let Me Fall**

**Summary:** Bates takes care of Anna when she and half the household come down with the flu.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Downton Abbey.

**A/N**: Takes place sometime after Anna and Bates are married. Reviews are always appreciated.

* * *

"You can't keep on this way. You need rest."

"I need you healthy and taken care of," he contradicted. "I can rest later after you've fallen asleep."

The influenza had hit Anna hard, just as it had taken down many at the Abbey, leaving half the family and staff confined to their beds. Luckily, Anna had the cottage to rest and recover in quiet, but its distance from Downton meant Mr. Bates could not easily check on her during the day. He'd been running himself ragged, spending the evenings caring for her while attending his duties during the day.

Anna could tell by the way he winced when he walked that he spent too much time on his bad leg, and she worried he might do lasting damage to the knee.

"Please, John," she appealed, wishing she had more strength, "just lie down with me for a while."

For the first few days, she'd been terrified of infecting him with the illness. But on one of his visits, Dr. Clarkson had assured her that her husband had been exposed to the flu and if he was going to come down with it, he would have done so already.

"First let me change out your bed sheets," he said. He worked with slow determination, leaning too heavily on his cane at times.

Anna pushed herself off the bed so he could remove the sheets damp from her sweat, determined to be as little burden as she could. But as she placed her weight on wobbly legs, the room began to spin uncontrollably.

"Anna!" she heard him shout as the world tilted on its axis, and then his arms were around her, catching her before she hit the floor. Distantly, his cane drop made a clattering sound as it landed on the floor.

She heard him cry out as he took the weight of her on his bad leg and instantly wished he'd just let her fall. His injury plagued him less in the last few years than it had when he'd first arrived at Downton, but too much abuse could make it throb with agony. Anna also knew that if he injured the knee again, he could risk losing all use of it.

Despite the pain she knew he must be feeling, Bates deposited her back on the bed with exquisite care, then he leaned against it as he fought to regain his composure.

"John, I'm so sorry..." she began, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

But he snatched his arm away from her. Stooping to grab his cane from where it had fallen on the floor, he said nothing to Anna as he finished making up the bed around her. She could see his pain and anger in the set of his jaw and his brisk, hurried movements. Once finished, he left the room in silence and she listened as he made his way down the stairs.

Anna blinked back the tears in her eyes, furious with herself for what she'd done. And as the fever overtook her senses, it turned those few seconds of the fall and his catching her into a never-ending loop of regret and recrimination.

She'd always been so careful of his injured leg. He did so well with the cane, that sometimes she forgot about it entirely. But then he would offer to do something for her, like walk into Ripon or step up on a ladder to get something from a high cupboard, and Anna would remember. She tried not to embarrass him with her concern as she knew how much he hated how differently others treated him because of the injury.

Cursing herself, Anna pushed back the tears. The last thing her husband needed was to deal with comforting her for her own mistake in the midst of everything else.

Soon she found herself swallowed up in a cocoon of nausea and heat and heavy weights pressing on her chest, making it difficult to breath. Anna hurt when she coughed and hurt when she lay still. But imagining the pain her husband must have felt at the sudden weight he'd born on his knee, she felt ashamed at considering her own pain.

He still hadn't returned upstairs, although she had no way to tell how long he'd been gone. She could hear him down in the kitchen, moving around. Wishing he would take a break, she closed her eyes and let herself relax against her pillow. The clean sheets had felt cool and refreshing against her too-warm skin, but now she could feel herself sweating through them again.

Hating the thought of creating even more work for her husband, Anna threw them off and was immediately awash with the cool night air. She felt better for a moment before the chill began to creep through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Shivering, she thought about covering herself with the sheets again, but stopped at the memory of her husband having to change them. She could endure a little cold for his sake, she decided.

* * *

Bates balanced the tray carefully as he made his way up the stairs. Arresting Anna's sudden fall had been jarring to his knee, but he'd soon recovered. She weighed so little, but the awkward angle in which he'd caught her had smarted. But the embarrassment at his response stayed with him, and he struggled against the shame of almost failing her.

Entering the darkened room, Bates set the tray on the dresser before moving across the room to check on his sick wife. Turning on the light by her bed, Bates saw immediately that she'd tossed off her covers. But he'd opened the room's window slightly to give her some fresh air earlier and forgotten to close it. She was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. Bringing a hand to her forehead, Bates confirmed that her fever remained but her arm felt like ice.

After shutting the window, he quickly reached for the covers to pull over her again. But Anna put up a weak arm to stop him. "Don't," she whispered weakly.

"Anna, you're freezing," he told her, frightened by how pale she seemed.

Gasping slightly for breath, she murmured, "... just more work..."

He frowned at the comment until he remembered the earlier incident as he'd been changing her sheets. He realized her intent to keep from dampening the bedclothes again. "My love, I don't mind the work. I just want you to be comfortable so you can get well."

Her eyes looked glassy and unfocused and Bates wondered if she could even understand him in her current state. She said, "I hurt..."

"Where do you hurt, darling? What can I do?"

"I... hurt you," she managed to get out.

Ah, he thought with a sigh. She was remembering the fall and how clumsily he'd managed to catch her. Bates hated that she'd seen his weakness, that he'd almost moved too slow to help her. So often she discounted both his disability and his greater age, but in this particular instance, they'd mattered. And Anna had almost paid the price for the failings of the husband she'd chosen. And yet, here she was insisting that _she _had hurt _him_.

"You didn't hurt me," he assured her, reaching out to push aside some of the blonde hairs which stuck to the side of her face. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt."

She shook her head at his gentle tone. "No... your knee... you should have let me fall..."

Her statement momentarily took him aback until he determined that it had to be the fever talking and not Anna.

"That would have been rather selfish of me," he told her lightly. "What if you'd been hurt?"

Anna blinked at him in confusion as though considering the possibility for the first time. "But your knee," she protested.

"My knee is fine. It just twinged a bit. I'm afraid my pride was hurt worse than it was."

She said nothing to this, so he got up from the bed and retrieved the tray of food he'd brought up to her. The broth was still warm, as was the tea he'd prepared, and with some urging, he managed to get her to drink some of both.

Setting the tray aside, he took up the wet rag he'd brought with him and dabbed it at her temple. She sighed at the feel of the cool fabric against her skin.

"I'll have to get Dr. Clarkson in the morning if this fever continues," Bates said aloud, more to himself than to her.

He tried to push from his mind the memory of Lavinia Swire's death from influenza. While the doctor had assured him that this strain was not nearly as bad as the Spanish flu outbreak which had swept through the country and claimed Matthew Crawley's fiancé, Bates still worried about his wife. He forgot sometimes how tiny she was until he studied how little of their bed she took up.

Once Bates had satisfied himself that Anna was warm again under the covers and that she'd drifted off into a restful, if not stable sleep, he prepared himself for bed as well. The day had been long and grueling and his watch showed that it was after two in the morning. He'd only have a few hours to sleep before getting up and doing it all again.

But instead of falling asleep as he crawled into bed next to his feverish wife, Bates found himself distracted by listening to her labored breaths. He also could not take his mind off her earlier statement, that he should have let her fall.

Unlike his first wife, Anna had never ridiculed him for his bad leg. Indeed, she'd treated him with more kindness and friendship than any person he'd known since being injured in the war in South Africa. But there were things she did not ask of him, things that the disability would make impossible or very difficult, like climbing ladders or carrying heavy burdens. And she worried about him - more, he thought, than she would if he were a younger man with two good legs.

He tried not to let it bother him, but the thought of failing her in something so basic rankled. That Anna would have rather he'd let her fall than risk injury to his knee... His hands balled into fists as waves of anger and self loathing swept through him.

Didn't she know how important she was? Didn't she realize he'd do anything for her, regardless of personal consequences? Bates appreciated the partnership he shared with his wife, that she willingly worked alongside him in most things. But he was still her husband, and that meant he owed her the protections and duties a man owed his wife.

Beside him, Anna shifted in her sleep. Pressing his hand to her forehead, he could tell the fever was worse. But his touch seemed to bring her out of the light sleep and she shook her head.

"...don't be gallant..." she muttered, eyes still closed.

"Anna," he said hesitantly, growing more worried.

"...let her ruin me..." his wife stated more forcefully, adding, "I don't care!"

She began pushing at her sheets again, as though the weight of them burned her skin, and Bates helped her remove them despite the chill in the air.

"Anna, sweetheart, you're ill," he said, trying to get through to her. And for a moment, she blinked her eyes open, but they stared ahead at him unfocused and unseeing.

"...live in sin with you..." she told him desperately, and Bates finally realized that in her fevered state, she was reliving the night he'd parted from her to return to London with Vera.

"We're married now, Anna," he reminded her, hoping to break her out of the state she'd fallen into. "We're together. I won't ever leave you again."

If she heard him, she gave no indication. But she did reach out for his shirtsleeve and clutch it tightly in one hand. "Mr. Bates," she said.

"I'm right here, Anna."

"...I love you..." She said the words like it was the first time, like she expected him to reject her.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Her fevered statements concerned him greatly, although he hated the idea of leaving her alone while he fetched the doctor.

"...next of kin..." she whispered, and Bates could see tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Anna, listen to me. I know you're confused right now, but you're safe. I'm here. I won't leave you."

He continued talking to her, whispering reminders of their life together, guiding her away from the bad memories and towards the good ones. As if seeking physical reassurance, she burrowed into his arms and clung to him like a child. After close to an hour of her strange ramblings, Anna's fever broke and she finally stilled and fell into a deep sleep. Bates followed close behind her.

* * *

He left Anna to sleep the next morning as he went up to Downton. With her temperature back down, she seemed to be resting more comfortably, and with great relief, he decided that a visit to the doctor would not be necessary.

"Mr. Bates," Carson greeted him with the pleasure of a man whose staff had largely been struck down with flu. "How is Anna?"

"She's still recovering."

"Well perhaps you can check in on her later this afternoon, but for now you're needed upstairs..."

Despite his fatigue and few hours of rest, Bates set to his work with determination. But Anna was always in his thoughts as he worried about her, alone and sick at the cottage. He'd left some more soup and bread for her by the bed but he worried it might get cold before she awoke to find it. Or perhaps she would still be too weak to reach for it.

Or maybe the fever would return. Bates shivered at the possibility of her pushing off her bedclothes again as she had in her agitated state the night before. And to think of her calling out for him, desperate and confused, as she'd done in the wee hours of the morning, reliving so much of the pain he'd put her through.

By lunchtime, Bates could no longer stand it. After informing Carson of his intent to return the cottage, the butler took in the valet's obvious exhaustion and dismissed Bates for the rest of the day. Not bothering to question the early leave, Bates made a beeline for the back door. Daisy stopped him on his way, shyly offering a sack lunch she'd packed for he and Anna. With Mrs. Pattmore in bed with the flu, the young woman had been making do on her own with the help of a junior maid and Bates thanked her readily.

He almost slipped twice on his way back to the cottage, his haste carrying him faster than his bad leg. All he could think about was Anna - sick and alone and quite probably in need of him.

Bates did not pause as he entered the cottage but went straight up to their bedroom, Daisy's lunch in hand.

But he did not find his wife in bed. Rather, he found the room tidied, with fresh bedding tucked in and pillows fluffed.

"Anna!" he called, growing both concerned and confused by her disappearance.

"I'm in here."

Her voice sounded small but much stronger than he'd have guessed. He found her in the small room next to their bedroom which they used mostly for storage. The space was not large enough to use as a spare room, but they'd managed to wedge a cot into one corner in case of unexpected company. There he found Anna, fully dressed but laid out on the bed on top of the covers.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing in here?" he asked.

Her color had improved, but a certain weakness was still evident in her limbs.

"I was feeling better," she explained, "so I thought I would do some cleaning up. But I think I over-exerted myself and had to lie down."

Frowning in disapproval, Bates admonished, "You should have been resting."

"I've been resting for days," she returned. "Besides, I wanted you to have a clean bed to sleep in. Did Mr. Carson send you home early?"

He nodded in response even as he sat on the edge of the tiny cot next to his wife. "I think he was worried I might drop from fatigue and he'd have no one else to help carry me away," Bates joked.

"You're the one who should get some rest," Anna chided. "Why don't you change and crawl into bed? I can bring you some tea."

"Actually, Daisy sent home a sack lunch for us," he responded, holding up the wrapped food. "Perhaps we should have a picnic in here?"

As they ate, Bates watched his wife, taking stock of her real condition even as she put on the brave, strong front of her usual self. She moved tiredly, and he could tell she still felt ill despite trying to hide it from him. Pressing his hand against her forehead, he noted that she felt warm but not particularly feverish. And while she was no longer as pale as paper, her complexion still lacked its proper pigment.

"You should go back to bed," he suggested softly. "You'll never get better if you don't get enough rest."

"I can rest here," Anna offered. "That way you can sleep in our bed without me waking you."

"I'd sleep better knowing you were close."

"You barely slept at all last night because of me."

"Is that why you're in here?" he questioned.

"I didn't want you to have to remake the bed," she said quietly. There was something in her voice, something he could not pinpoint, that bothered her about him undertaking that chore.

Bates flashed back to the night before, to his wife's near fall. Suddenly the shame in her eyes connected in his mind with that incident.

"Considering I almost let you fall to the floor last time?" he questioned.

Something in her expression changed at his words.

"Considering I was a foolish, selfish woman and let you hurt yourself to keep me from falling," she shot back.

And suddenly, Bates understood his wife's self recrimination as well as her motives.

_You should have let me fall._

She still blamed herself even though they'd talked about it the night before. But of course, this was Anna. If she believed she'd caused him pain, her guilt would demand that she set things right.

"I wasn't hurt-" he began, but she interrupted.

"I saw how much pain it caused you. I was trying to help, to make things easier, and I just made them worse for you instead."

"That isn't true."

"What if the damage had been worse?" Anna continued. "What if you were seriously injured because of me, because of my foolishness? I could never live with myself."

Bates often worried what he would do if his limp ever got so bad as to be permanently debilitating, keeping him from even walking with a cane. When he married Anna, he'd promised to provide for her. How could he take care of his wife, of the family they so desperately wanted, if he was hurt? Anna's wages would not be enough, and she could not work if they had children. No, the only solution was for him to do whatever necessary to earn money for his family.

If it hurt to work, then he would deal with the pain. Even if every step was agony, he would just have to push through it. Anna deserved more than he could ever give her and asking her to make do with less because of his failings was unthinkable.

But Bates knew his duties to his wife included more than just ensuring there was a roof over their heads or the funds to buy her a new dresses once in a while. He was her protector, her champion, the defender of her honor and her life. If she needed comfort, he would provide it. If she was sick, he would attend her. And if she fell, he would catch her.

"Anna," he began, ordering his thoughts so he could explain his feelings. "You know I love you."

She nodded.

"I know I may not be the best husband," Bates continued. "And God knows I don't deserve to be married to you. But if you think I won't do everything in my power to be a good husband to you, you're sorely mistaken. And that includes catching you if you fall, no matter the cost."

"You are the best husband I could have ever hoped for, John Bates," she informed him, reaching out to take his hands in her own. "You have nothing to prove with me. I only hope I am as half as good of a wife to you as you are husband to me."

Bates had never thought to consider Anna might doubt her own contributions to their marriage. How could she? Her very presence made everything better and brighter. Her sweetness tempered the worst days and her playful side always left him craving more time with her.

"Anna, you are a wonderful wife. Never doubt that," he assured her, not adding that their marriage could not even compare to that with his first wife. Vera had been angry and vindictive, hating him for being injured in the war and all too eager to drown both of their frustrations in the bottle. Bates hated to think of how he'd been with her - viewing himself as not only a failure of a soldier but also as a husband. Alcohol was his only consolation as he limped through the remains of his shattered life.

With Anna, it was different. He was different. She married him knowing all his flaws and weaknesses, loved him for who he was rather than for what he could or couldn't offer her.

"You should sleep," she said. "You must be exhausted after I kept you up half the night."

"Only if you come to bed with me," he allowed. "I don't like you staying in here by yourself."

Anna nodded and he escorted her back to their bedroom. Not bothering to change, Bates simply removed his already wrinkled coat and shirt and laid down on top of the covers. Anna joined him, pulling a knitted blanket over the top of them both as she settled into the space between his arms. Their position mirrored the way they'd slept earlier that morning when Anna's fever had finally broken and allowed them to rest.

"Wake me if I disturb you," she instructed quietly.

Making a noncommittal sound he hoped she would interpret as an affirmation, Bates closed his eyes and drunk in the feel of his wife in his arms and the mild scent of soap from her hair. He realized belatedly that she must have bathed while he was gone that morning despite her weakened state. Pulling her even closer, he sighed in contentment.

As he felt his wife's breathing even out and felt her relax against him in sleep, Bates briefly thought about what a lucky man he was before following her into much needed slumber.


End file.
